


Last Call

by otaka101



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Death, I Blame Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 00:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3361835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/otaka101/pseuds/otaka101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Character A gets into a situation that kills them, but before they die, they call character B rather than call for help. Character A calls character B and spends their final moments casually talking to them and trying not to let them know what is about to happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Last Call

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, as this is unbetaed, and I hope you enjoy!

Saw a really good prompt on tumblr, so I decided to write a DA fanfic about it. This is set in an AU, so things are a bit different than the regular, just a bit.

 

He was in the car, on the right side of the road when he flew into the tree. It didn’t happen like in the movies, where everything slowed down as fires spread and gas went flying everywhere igniting sparks that would inevitably lead to a massive explosion. No, it all happened very fast.

 

One minute he was driving then a large truck’s headlights flash before his eyes and suddenly he skidded violently to the side, the tree came up to his face faster than he could comprehend, a short burst of light behind his eyes before his sight went dark. A short time later—or maybe a long time later, his sense of time was skewed—light slowly returned to his right eye but there was no color or feeling in his left. A dull pain flared in his nose and there was a hushed roar as blood raced out form his head and torso. With his right hand, not his left because his left arm was crushed against the car door and the splintered tree trunk, he grabbed his phone.

 

He could make out the spider-webbed cracks the screen, a grim reminder that this was all too real and not a dream or one of his stories that he’d made up for dramatic effect. His fingers slowly work and his thumb hesitates over the nine button on his dial. After a short pause, his thumb makes its way over to the six button and holds down until it begins to make the call. He doesn’t put the phone on speaker because there’s an obnoxious dinging noise in the background and that’s not what he wants to comment on. 

 

The phone rings as his arm laboriously makes its way up to his head so his phone is near his ear. He hears the phone ring for a fifth time and prays to whatever god that exists that his call is answered. 

 

A small click noise and then—“Varric? Sorry I took so long, I was practicing. What’s up?”

 

His lips quirk up in just the slightest around broken teeth and his accelerated heart slows ever-so-slightly as the pins in his lungs fade just a bit.

 

“Hawke,” his voice is rough and thick with blood rather than his usual timbre that he accumulated from telling so many stories, but she doesn’t know that. “How’s practice?

 

Her laughter is light and the pain shooting through his skull is that much easier to bear, “I finally got that move down—you know that one where I roll and shove in my fingers?—and nobody was able to beat me! No concussions today either.” There is the rustle of clothing that signifies she’s getting changed, “What’re you up to Varric? I’ve wanted to see you all day.”

 

He lets out a short bark of a laugh and a touch of irritation in his voice, “I was on my way, but some fool got into crash, so I have to wait until they get it all sorted out. So I probably won’t be home until later tonight.”

 

“Aww,” she pouts, and suddenly he realizes that there’s blood all over the door and console. His blood. “I was hoping we could kick some ass at Wicked Grace tonight at the Hanged Man.”

 

“Hawk—no—Sapphire, I love you, you know that right?” His breath hitches as he loses all feeling in his legs.

 

“I-I love you too,” If he could’ve moved his lips, he’d be grinning by the invisible blush on her dark cheeks that he was sure that she had and the quiet sincerity behind her words and in her voice. “What brought this on?”

 

“Oh, you know,” he pauses for a second to cough because the blood he’s choking on is making it difficult for his to breathe and speak. “Just saw that fool in the crash and realized that life’s too short to go on without telling the people you love the most that you love them.”

 

Hawke is silent for a beat but then her voice returns, frantic and accompanied by the roar of an engine being turned on, “Where are you Varric? I’ll be there soon—!”

 

“Shh-sh,” the sound comes out garbled as his breath becomes more shallow, “I’m fine, Sapphire, I’m fine. Just glad I got to talk to you again. I love you.”

 

Her voice is choked up with sobs, “I love you too, Varric. Where are you? I need to know so I can tell the ambulance—dammit.”

 

He patiently tells her, even as dots begin to swim in his vision. She puts his call on hold, presumably to call the ambulance, before returning again. “I called them, their on their way. Don’t worry, Varric, everything is going to be fine.”

 

A long breath escapes that was supposed to be a chuckle as his ribs collapse a bit on his left side, “I know they will. It’s okay.”

 

Her voice is thick and she’s sniffling, but obviously trying to put on a brave face, “Hey, Varric? Can you tell me that story that you told the other day? I can’t remember all of the plot.”

 

He acquiesces and tells the story but his words are slow and heavy like molasses. Hawke breaks in every few seconds to ask a question or make some small quip. As the moments tick by he responds less and less and his words become slurred and sleepy. Then there are no words just oppressive silence on his end that she tries so hard to break. The last thing he hears is, “Varric, don’t go. I love you. Please, help is on the way, just hang on!”

She arrives two minutes too late to a car crashed into a tree and a dead Varric Tethras in the front seat. Sapphire doesn’t register the tears falling down her face and she doesn’t notice the sharp, overbearing ache in her chest as they take his body away. Her mouth is creased into a heavy frown rather than the usual mischievous grin that she so often wears.

 

Their friends come to the funeral and his family as well, but they are too busy worrying over who will be the next head rather than mourning his passing. Sapphire’s eyes stay haunted and empty as they lower the body. She never seems to look happy, even when she goes over to his grave four days later trying to come up with a new backstory for his beloved shotgun Bianca. 

She never recovers, though she still gets out of the house and goes to work. Life still cruelly goes on, even in mourning, as she is reminded by their editor the day after she visits his grave. She lasts a week after the visit, no she doesn’t stop eating, or throw up excessively. She doesn’t stay in bed with the covers over her head and the curtains over the windows. She still goes to work and still tries to hang out with her friends and go to practice, even though it all feels useless now. She doesn’t cut her wrists and sob in the rain like in one of his stories. She just goes to bed one night and never woke up the next morning, a cold corpse in a now-dead house. 

 

They bury her beside him and try to remember them both fondly, even through their tears


End file.
